Aethan

That night I spoke to the walls, and sang all my sister's favourite songs and recited the prayers for her eternal peace. I could not do much for her, but what I could have done I tried my best to do, and told myself it was enough. I imagined her speaking back, singing with me and slowly going to sleep. Like when mother sang to us. Fierce mother protecting us from bad dreams as we slept.

Then I too fell asleep, head rested atop the cold hard surface of the tomb.

Wakefulness gripped me all too soon, come for me in the form of my father. I immediately noticed that he was wearing his crown this time. It seemed to age him, adding five inches to his height and fifty years to his stature, it seemed like a burden he would not easily part with, as if the place where it rested had grown roots right into his skull.

"Come," was all he said before turning on his heels and leaving me in the room.

I gave the tomb a finally glance, committing the box to memory and picturing my sister. "Rest, you've earned it."

Eventually I caught up with him on the concrete stairs and he pretended I had been there all along. "We're going to the city market square," he began, "There you will bid goodbye to your people. It will be long. It will be tedious. But you will do it."

A night in the cold wearing a dress was humbling. I nodded, lacking the will to even think of rebellion. "Yes, father." I used the correct form of father, the man with a daughter, and he smiled. I felt as if I had betrayed my mother when my father smiled at me with such approval.

"Good, you will ride in my carriage with me. I have some other things I think are necessary for you to hear before your departure."

When we entered the court yard we were met by father’s guards. The elites all wore red, the colour of my father's royal house. The blue of sapphires were only used for my mother, but the elite guards were for the king only. They pretended I didn’t exist according to protocol except to trail closely behind, silently.

The castle was a thing of splendor, twisting upwards like several dancers intertwined and stretching for the sun. It gleamed with it many marble and polished surfaces. Gold, silver, gems all of them were used high up in the columns so as not to tempt thieves.

The capital was a jewel, but I was quickly growing to hate its glamour and glory. The people felt stiff, formal and false. I wanted no friends here.

"Tell me what you know of the Southern Kingdom," my father began as we exited the palace. The city itself was constantly busy, and several nobles were in the courtyard, but none approached, content to bow from a distance.

I had to clear my throat as I thought quickly, "It's a people of war..." My father's silence became icy and I continued. "They have waged war with us for as long as we have been a people until the recent treaty... They don't live as we do-"

"But of course they don't," my father interrupted, impatient with my ignorance, "We are who we are and they are who they are. They are mostly base men, with simple thoughts, and interestingly, they are corrupt."

That was one to make my day. My father had no freedom of speech to call another land corrupt what with the things he allowed behind the scenes in his own kingdom. "Corrupt," was all I asked instead.

He grinned like a fox that had caught his desired autumn rabbit. "Down to the last brass faced lord and lady. And more importantly, the people know it. The Southern kingdom has small rebellions all over the country, chafing farmers, lords in disfavour and radicals all vying for power. In other words, an opportunity."

He must have read the expression on my face because he continued. "What do you think they see when they look over the borders? When they see the battle standard of the royal house of our kingdom and see the border patrol ranks? When they see the reverence with which we, the royal house are treated?" I was beginning to see the picture my father was painting.

"They see the order they wish to have."

"They see much more than order. They see peace. They see the values in a people that have heritage and true power. They see a people free of fear and full of pride." His voice lectured me tirelessly, full of dreams and honey.

"But those are all lies," I dared to say.

To my surprise my father threw back his head and laughed, entering the carriage. The few councilors in the courtyard looked across at me with small smiles. I suppose this looked natural to them, the king laughing with his daughter.

He waited for me to get seated opposite him in the cushioned carriage. We began to move and he spoke again, "You are right. But it’s the wonderful thing about any kingdom. The people always believe it is better off elsewhere. The difference is that our culture makes it treason to speak of it." He ended with a beaming smile. My great grandfather Lord Creaton while he was King Ulta, had passed the law of reverence. He had changed our very culture with his ruthlessness.

He had killed half of our country's government and called it lawful because they had spoken against the king, and therefore against the realm. He was as cunning as a fox. My father had inherited his twisted sense of politics.

"So I am to go to this unruly country. You would send me there in the unrest?"

"Yes. For the very simple reason that you hold the keys to the Southern Kingdom. Your marriage to the Prince is just a first step. The step that puts you on the royal council, and that puts me... On their councils."

So this was what my mother had always warned me about. She always tried to protect me from getting involved in anything my father wanted. But when she had died, I got involved anyway. I had done bad things for my father under Mirax’s supervision. "You want me to get you the South?" He must have been desperate. My father had never trusted me with any task he viewed as important. It made me swell with pride momentarily. Then it soured. All of this because Aella had died. I hated him.

"Of course I do, my daughter," he slipped in the reminder to use feminine protocol.

"Your place on the council will not be real just because of a royal marriage. You'll be here in Readris. Too far away to do anything or have a say."

"Yes. Exactly. Power isn't a title. Power is influence and what you can do with it. True that I wouldn't be there. But you will be, but you will obey me..." He paused, leaning in so that his golden eyes came on the same level as mine. The depths gleamed and shone with his greed and something else I could not tell, "Because everything will one day be yours. You will become King of a united kingdom."

I didn't believe him. My father would never act purely in someone else's interest. Least of all mine. Maybe that was the plan for Aella, but he was hiding something. It was true that it may one day belong to me, but he was using me. I could feel it in my being.

He didn't care that my marriage to the prince would lose me the respect of my people. I would gain him the South, and he already held the North. It was all for him.

"What about you?" I needed to know what he would say.

King Praelin relaxed in his seat, sighing, "I am an old man now. In the years to come I don't want a realm divided by a war I may have to fight. I will step aside for your rule."

I nodded not believing him for a second, "Forgive me in contradicting you father, your grace, but you are not so old."

"Being King Ulta is not a bad role." Ah. Of course. The King Ulta was first advisor to the ruling King. He was right, influence was power. He would always pull the strings of who mattered so long as he was alive. He didn't care about the title.

But we were avoiding speaking about the obvious problems. That marrying me off did not give him anything automatically so long as the Southern Kingdom had a king and crowned heir.

But something told me that was not an issue for my father. The king of the Southern kingdom and his eldest son were alive. For now.

“You hate me.” I stated the obvious.

What hurt worst was that he never denied it. His eyes surveyed me passively, as if I were just a tool that would either serve him or be thrown out, “I take good care of the things that serve me. Look to my servants. Look at Mirax, at how he wants for nothing. Serve me Aethan and it will be the same for you. If for no other reason, serve me to honor Aella's memory and create a legacy you both can share. An end to war, and an era of peace.”

Peace. Aella had fought for peace all this time. Was this my advantage Aella? Was I to work with the demon himself and finish your work? I prayed for a sign then said, "What must I do?"

His answering smile made me immediately regret asking.